


Alone

by gala_apples



Series: If Love is a Mixtape [9]
Category: X-Men (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-11
Updated: 2012-04-11
Packaged: 2017-11-03 11:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/380731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being with Magneto isn't as nearly as good as it's made out to be. but it's too late now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> If Love is a Mixtape... then life is the tracks you listen to. (each story was written while listening to one song on repeat, for however long it took. In the case of side A track 5, that means a 3 minute song on repeat for about 6 hours. *head bash*)
> 
> Side B: John  
> Track 4: Queen- Save Me. Particularly "save me, I can't face this life alone" "I'm naked and i'm far from home", and my favourite line of any queen song: "each night I cry, just to believe the lie: I love you 'til I die"

John isn't sure if he can do this much longer. 

It's not the philosophy, although it's not what he had expected. The whole idea is beginning to seem a lot more like an eugenics thing, killing off those who haven't evolved properly. There's a lot more killing than he had expected, and much more than he thought he'd have to do personally. Apparently a fire shaper is a perfect assassin. That was a fact he hadn't known when he'd signed up. The only good thing is Magneto teaching him how to throw from further and further distances. Soon he'll be far enough away that he won't have to hear the screams.

Neither is it being treated as an ignoramus, that's a normal day in John Allerdyce's life. Xavier had always underestimated him, and Erik overestimates him. They're both disapointed when he fails, but succeeding has no perks. Xavier always used to over-praise, like he was some puppy that needed to be petted when he didn't pee on the rug. Erik doesn't ever acknowledge when he succeeds. He merely looks at John, and the 'it's about time' that hovers unsaid is like a punch in the gut.

What it _is_ , is John isn't good at being alone. It hurts. Looking around and realising there's not a single person he can talk to hurts. Magneto's henchmen have a high rate of being captured and put in jail, every time he's worked up from grunts to pleasantries to being able to have a decent conversation, the person goes to prison. Mystique is always gone, and she's not the idle conversation type anyway. And the only interaction he has with Magneto is to learn more control. John heard enough of that from the X-men, and at least they had friends and happiness to show for it. All that Magneto's got is bitterness and hate, and John doesn't want to go down that road any farther than he already has.

During the day, he can usually occupy himself enough that he doesn't have to think or feel. Hollow husk is a step up from bitter and cruel, and he'll kick and scream before he goes down that last step. At night though, there's nothing to prevent the never ending circling thoughts. _What if I had done something else?_ and _What if **he** had done something else?_ and _What if she had done anything, anything at all?_

John had always wanted to not have a roommate. First his brother, messy fat _pig_ addicted to handheld games. Then Bobby, messy stupid _chicken_ addicted to bad relationships. Now that he has it, he knows it's not as good as he's always dreamed. Sure he can sleep naked, but that only acts as more weight on his soul. His brother would have told his prude mother, Bobby would have told his whore girlfriend. He has no one to tell that he sleeps naked, and he is alone.

The room has no curtains. It's been decorated with a modern feel, all glass and tile and hardness. The light of the moon streams in, bouncing off the high gloss black floor to illuminate the room. It's midnight, yet it's nearly bright enough to read. Anywhere else in the world the windows would be covered. Anywhere else furniture and clothing strewn about would hide the floor. This room has only a bed, a single bed. There is nothing to hide the floor. 

He's kneeling on the tile. His legs are numb, he has no idea how long he's been bent to the ground, time forgotten in the glow of the floor and the darkness of his soul. His thin naked body shivers in the stream of cool air let in by the open window. He will cry, an automatic physical reaction to the cold. He will cry, and think about Bobby, and tell himself he's crying because of Bobby.

He's crying because of himself. Because there is no way to save himself.


End file.
